Stephenson: The Ettrick Shepherd 



33 



second visit to Lockerben my pretty housekeeper was then gone. It was 

 the time of sheep-shearing, which was just finished. Masters and men 

 were sitting round a small cask of whisky, drinking it raw out of a tea- 

 cup. They were all rather merry. I sat with them for some time and 

 was regaled with some excellent mutton ham, cakes and butter, whisky 

 and water. I had a surveying engagement at Moffat, about ten miles 

 across a rough moor. A number of the company were going the same 

 route. Mr. Brydon was of the party and fortified his pocket with a 

 bottle of whisky, which was finished on our journey. I was obliged to 

 attend to some papers for the greater part of the night, but I heard the 

 distant sound of reveling. The establishment at Lockerben was soon 

 after broken up — how could it stand? — and Mr. Hogg, with a small 

 reversion took on lease a farm on the water of Scar, in the parish of 

 Penpoint, about seven miles west from Lockerben. Corfardine was its 

 name. I happened to be at Eccles with Mr. Maitland a few days, and 

 one forenoon paid him a visit, distant about three miles. The ground 

 was covered with snow; and, on entering the farm, I found all the 

 sheep on the wrong side of the hill. Hogg was absent, and had been 

 so for some days, feasting, drinking, dancing, and fiddling, &c., with a 

 neighboring farmer. His housekeeper was the most ugly, dirty goblin 

 I had ever beheld; a fearful contrast to his former damsel. He arrived 

 just as I had turned my horse's head to depart. 



"Come in", said he; "the lads will soon be home." The inside of his 

 house corresponded with its out. A dirty looking fellow rose from a 

 bed, who was desired to go and look after the sheep. "I have been up", 

 he said, "all night in the drift." "You have been so", said I, "to very 

 little purpose. Your hirsel is on the wrong side of the hill." 



He ordered some ham and some bread and butter; but it came 

 through such hands that I could not eat. Over our glass of whisky we 

 had a long conversation. I strongly recommended him to give up his 

 farm and come to Edinburgh, and attend to the publication of The 

 Mountain Bard, which he said agreed with his own opinion, for that he 

 had in contemplation a long poem about Queen Mary." 



Three years of this was enough. Then Hogg, having be- 

 come a bankrupt, literally ran off from his creditors and ap- 

 peared once more in the Ettrick country. His notion was to 

 hire again as a shepherd, but no one would have him. The 

 people of his native vale looked upon such foolish extrava- 

 gance as not only sinful but absolutely criminal. They would 

 have nothing to do with him. Wherever he went he met with 

 the cold shoulder. All summer nothing was doing for him. 

 At last he made the seemingly rash resolution of going to 



s Morrison's Reminiscences of Scott, Hogg, etc., Tait's Magazine, Vol. 10, page 571. 

 The reader will notice a slight slip as to dates in the above quotation. The article, which 

 is very obscure as to dates, says "about this time, 1809" occurred the conversation 

 referred to. The Mountain Bard, however, was published in 1807. Doubtless Morrison 

 confused the above with some conversation that had taken place while Hogg- was still 

 at Mitchel-Slack. 



3-219i;3 



